


Burns Brighter: Frozen

by gameboycolor, orphan_account



Series: Burns Brighter [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avatar the Last Airbender, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameboycolor/pseuds/gameboycolor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Avatar Aang approaches the end of his time, Kurt and Blaine face new responsibilities and adapt to the changing societal atmosphere in Republic City. Set seven years after <b><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/635395/chapters/1150296">Burns Brighter</a></b>.</p><p>  <b>If you haven't seen Avatar: The Last Airbender, please click <a href="http://gameboycolor.livejournal.com/70592.html">here</a> for a series primer.</b></p><p><b>Spoilers:</b> All of Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra, and Glee to be safe.</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> Supernatural elements within the realm of the Avatar universe, canon character deaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! We are so glad to have you back for the next part of Kurt and Blaine's journey.

Night stretches overhead like a swath of velvet, blanketing the sky in deep blue with a faint glow cast by the moon hanging heavily overhead. Since moving to the city, white noise has become a regular fixture through the night, but still Kurt does his best to bury himself away from the sound, chasing after the quiet he knew back home in the South Pole by nestling himself under blankets and against the folds of Blaine’s robes. There, he’s able to better focus on the regular cadence of Blaine’s breathing, soft and tickling through strands of his hair, their tangled limbs anchoring him to sleep.

But for some nights, like this one, it isn’t enough. A loud knock sounds at the door, three times before Kurt chooses to acknowledge it with a groan, burying his face in his pillow. Kurt wants nothing more than to curl up against Blaine’s warmth until sleep finds him again, but he knows he can’t; he’s the only healer on this side of town, and that means calls in the middle of the night, sometimes even at his own home.

Reluctantly, he pulls back the covers. Neither Zhuzi nor Thomas stir from their places on opposite sides of the bed, but Blaine opens one bleary eye.

“Go back to sleep,” Kurt instructs quietly, dropping a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

It didn’t take long for Blaine to catch on when Kurt started a side practice for patients in their house. He’s always quick to meet Kurt with a basin of water and knows how to distract and engage the patient in conversation. In the more serious cases, he’s been Kurt’s best asset.

As Kurt quickly slips into his working robes, the door sounds again with knocking, louder and clipped. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Kurt calls out as he rushes to the entrance.

He gets all kinds of people at this hour. Teenagers hurt in minor bending scuffles, too scared to seek proper treatment at a clinic. Workers getting off the late shift, afraid their bosses won’t cover treatment costs, even though their injuries were acquired on the job.

Kurt has found his calling treating the needier population of Republic City.

Which is why he’s shocked to find Lin Bei Fong standing at his door.

“Hey, stranger.”

-

A surge of guilt passes over Kurt as he stands at the door, lips parted in surprise at the sight of Lin. They haven’t seen one another for a while, not since she and Tenzin parted ways a few months ago. Kurt isn’t the type of person who likes to take sides in matters that don’t directly concern him, but that hasn’t stopped him from keeping his space from Lin, never knowing where she stands on their friendship. He was friends with Tenzin first, friends since they were only children, both running around the frozen plains of the South Pole — the kind of childhood friendship that wasn’t easy to break. Worried that his continued closeness with Tenzin would cause Lin to bear a grudge, Kurt simply waited for her to come to him.

Even though he knew that her pride was very likely to get in the way.

It’s that same pride which Kurt suspects has brought Lin to his front step. Turning to the medics at the clinic would have word spreading to Katara, and in turn, to Tenzin himself.

“What happened?” Kurt asks, cheeks flushed as he steps aside to let Lin in and tries his best not to stammer over his words. Some people breeze back into one another’s lives easily, but Kurt never expected for Lin to be one of them. “Are you in some sort of trouble?” His voice darkens at the second question, gaze closely fixated on her expression. It’s a question he asks everyone who comes through his door. The last thing Kurt wants is to expose his family to any danger.

“Triple Threats,” Lin says in a low voice, lowering her hood as she steps ahead of Kurt, quick to make her way to the healing room. He spots now what the shadows hid earlier, two long gashes down the side of Lin’s face, blood trailing down the side of her neck and skin growing tight around the edges of the wound.

“Lin,” Kurt says sadly, rushing to fill a basin with water and carrying it over to the bench Lin seats herself on. “You should know your mother’s stance on them better than anyone. They’re thugs. We’re supposed to let the authorities deal with them.”

“Well, the authorities aren’t doing shit while crime’s only growing worse by the day,” she grits out, eyes closing tightly after Kurt dips his hands into the water, a glow emanating from his skin as he directs the water up to meet her injury, cool to the touch. Although she keeps still, Kurt hears a slight sigh of relief when he starts to work on the worst of the cuts on her face. No doubt they’re painful, and as he runs water along the serrated edges of her wound, Kurt can tell that it’s the work of jagged ice. A skilled waterbender.

It must hurt.

While he feels sympathy and understands Lin’s frustration, Kurt wishes she hadn’t thrown herself in the middle of things while the atmosphere of the city has been so tense.

Then again, she wouldn’t be Lin if she hadn’t.

“Tenzin can’t know about this, of course,” Lin mutters, so softly that Kurt can tell she meant to slip the subject by without notice.

His face falls.

“What?” Lin asks, louder and defensive, eyes widening in alarm. “You haven’t sent him word while I wasn’t looking, have you?”

“Of course not,” Kurt whispers in a rush, soft and placating. “It’s just...”

“What, Kurt? Out with it!”

“It’s going to scar.” Even with water blurring her cuts from view, Kurt can tell. He’s dealt with enough wounds to know. “I’ll do my best to make sure the scarring is minimal, but there’s only so much I can do.”

Time apart has made it harder to read Lin’s expression; there’s conflict there, but Kurt can’t quite put his finger on it. Lin’s never been especially vain. Maybe it isn’t her own opinion that she worries about now. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

“I am,” Kurt says, bristling. “But even Chief Katara wouldn’t be able to prevent you from having a scar. He’s going to find out sooner or later, Lin.”

“That’s fine. Maybe now he’ll know that I don’t need him anymore.”

He lets out a soft sigh, fighting the temptation to roll his eyes. Kurt hasn’t spoken to Lin much since the split, but now it’s clear she’s on the same page as Tenzin. Juggling a mix of training, public service, and even social calls, Tenzin has been desperately trying to prove that he’s doing fine without Lin.

It’s almost funny how stubborn they both are. And even though Kurt knows he shouldn’t be saying anything to jeopardize the peace they’ve both tentatively found, he can’t help meddling now and again. “Avatar Aang isn’t doing well,” he murmurs, as much for his own sake as Tenzin’s.

“I’ve heard.” Her reply is short and terse.

“Tenzin... he’s not dealing with it well,” he continues, glancing up imploringly. Instead of spending time with his family, Tenzin’s been throwing himself into Council business. To Kurt, who’s already risked losing his father once, it feels like a waste, but every time he brings the topic up, Tenzin finds an excuse to slip away and back in the office.

The only indication he has that Lin’s heard him at all is in the slight tensing of her jaw and the way her eyes almost seem to change color, muted rather than carrying their usual sharpness. “Kurt, if he wanted to see me, he would ask for me.”

Kurt thinks both of them know that Tenzin isn’t the type to ask favors. But with Lin still showing resistance, it’s clear that this isn’t Kurt’s place. “Alright,” he nods, letting everything fall into silence as he continues to do the last of his work on Lin’s face, the skin already shiny and smooth.

“Kurt?”

Half expecting a lecture for prying into her personal life, or for sharing Tenzin’s personal business without his consent, Kurt glances up; finding a weary look on Lin’s face says otherwise.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He can’t be sure what she’s thanking him for, but he knows better than to ask.

***

The next generation of Dragonhawks are still trying to come together as a team, but Blaine can already see the potential there. As it turns out, Puck has a knack for sensing team chemistry and gathering up and coming athletes. He sees raw talent in people, and he knows just how to shape it. Blaine enjoys visiting them from time to time, often for the same reason that he turned to probending in the first place — it’s a nice reprieve from the chaos and tension in the city, and far easier of a sight to watch than the healing of injuries.

“Think they’re going to take it all the way to finals this year?” Blaine asks, smiling as he leans forward, watching the trio of kids parrying in the center of the gym.

“We’re hoping they do, but who knows these days,” grouses Puck, crinkling the bag of fire flakes in his hand and popping a few into his mouth. “All of these refs getting paid off, it feels like it doesn’t even matter how hard people play anymore.”

“Puck, it’s been barely a decade since we were on the circuit. You make it sound like it’s been forever.”

“Sometimes, it feels that way.”

He’s right. Probending has evolved and expanded in a way no one saw coming. With industry booming in the United Republic and the increasing population needing a way to set aside their worries, professional athletes enjoy a great amount of celebrity than nearly anyone else in the nation. Sometimes, they’re more easily recognized than Councilmembers themselves, and everything else comes with it — the sponsorships have gotten more lucrative, and the referees fall under a greater amount of pressure than ever to swing rounds. There are constant whispers about officials being paid off, but no one can prove it.

It’s not like they didn’t break a few rules in their day, though. The under the table sponsorship with the Mottas could have gotten them kicked out of the league if word had gotten out.

“Say,” Puck remarks, tossing his empty bag aside and crossing his arms. “When are you going to come work for me? You bored of playing Hummel’s nurse yet?”

“I don’t know, Puck.” There’s an ache that settles in Blaine’s chest at the thought; he misses probending, he really does, but he can tell he wouldn’t feel satisfied taking a job with the Dragonhawks. These days, it feels like he’s a teenager again; even without being forced in the direction of politics, finding a passion has always been Blaine’s underlying problem. He’s not any closer to finding his way, even if he knows he has to find it on his own. “I don’t think it’s for me.”

“You could at least show Ryder a thing or two. Kid keeps throwing lightning around, no matter how many times I talk to him about it.”

Blaine looks down at where Ryder, Jacob, and Marley are running drills in the gym’s practice arena. “Give him time, he’ll figure it out.”

“When?”

“When the ref slaps him with a penalty and makes him feel like an idiot.”

Puck laughs and claps Blaine on the back. “I’ve missed having you around here. At least think about joining us, yeah? There are worse things you could end up doing.”

“I’ll think about it.”

-

Even though Blaine hears of job opportunities regularly, he’s yet to find a job he likes as much as acting as an advisor to Wes. True to his departure from politics, Blaine is careful never to voice his opinions in public, fearing that his word might be leveraged by the wrong people or twisted away from his original intent, but he never imagined that working with Wes’ staff would still leave him so involved. Most of his afternoons are spent in the office, especially now that everything in Republic City seems to be in a state of flux. Kurt doesn’t speak too much about it, but Blaine’s noticed the house calls becoming more frequent, the voices that filter through their house often hushed.

It seems like secrets are one thing Blaine may never be able to avoid.

“Hello, Master Anderson!”

It’s been three weeks since Wes’ staff expanded to include Rachel Berry, newly hired to take messages and schedule appointments. A new arrival to the city from the Fire Nation, there are certain habits of Rachel’s that feel like a throwback to Blaine’s childhood, for better or worse, but the broad smile that she wears is completely her own.

Offering a small grin in reply, Blaine nods and waves. “You know, Rachel, you _could_ just call me Blaine.”

Her smile immediately fades, expression molding into one of slight consternation. “Oh, I don’t think that would be appropriate, Master Anderson. While I do think that you are one of the more pleasant members of Councilman Sung’s cabinet, the last thing that I would want is for my friendliness to be misconstrued as an attempt to work my way up illegitimately in politics,” she explains, lips pursed. “I would also recommend that you address me as Lady Berry, but I recognize that your station and long-term experience with the upper echelons of society leave you with more freedom to do as you please without fear of repercussion.”

Pausing with a pressed smile, Blaine closes his eyes in amusement. In addition to her regular duties, Rachel takes it upon herself to offer input on legislation and the functioning of society, from ancient traditions to studying new forms of government. Her opinion, whether Wes asks for it or not, is always made clear.

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Lady Berry,” concedes Blaine, bowing his head charitably before slipping by and heading for Wes’ office, careful to shut the door firmly behind him.

Quickly glancing up in alarm, Wes’ expression relaxes visibly upon seeing Blaine. “I have to let her go,” Wes groans, quickly dropping his head into his hands, fingers fisting lightly in his hair. “I _have_ to. Please say you’ll fill in until I can find a suitable replacement.”

Sighing between his teeth, Blaine bites back an immediate refusal out of respect for Wes. While he’s had a lot of time on his hands ever since retiring from the probending circuit, Blaine’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t be satisfied working under Wes. Being a personal assistant to a Councilman is a great job, one that often acts as a springboard within national politics; it’s perfect for an ambitious young adult like Rachel, someone who obviously wants to be involved.

The issue is, Blaine doesn’t want to dig his own roots even further. Not when politics definitely isn’t what he wants to be involved with for the rest of his life.

“Is she really that bad?” Blaine asks in a low voice, mindful of the fact that Rachel is on the other side of the wall.

“The worst,” Wes says, pressing his fingers to his temples. “She just... won’t keep a thing to herself.”

Blaine shrugs, holding a hand out in thought. “It’s not the worst quality for a person to have. She’s young, she’s a nonbender. She might be able to offer you insight.”

“Or you could fill in until I can find someone who doesn’t make me want to pull my hair out.”

Even though he knows that Wes has the best of intentions, Blaine’s stomach churns from the directions he’s being pulled in — between Puck with the Dragonhawks and Wes with his political office, Blaine wonders if he’ll ever be fully past the point in his life where people make decisions for him. Or try to.

“How about I talk to her for you?” Blaine suggests, his tone gentle. “Maybe we can find a way for you two to work together.”

Wes doesn’t seem pleased with the response, but he doesn’t immediately turn it down. “Fine. But make it clear she’s walking on thin ice. I don’t care who her fathers are, she is still completely replaceable.”

***

Airbender Island was once the place Kurt went to get away from the sounds of the city. It was somewhere he could unwind, a place that encouraged for one to detach from worldly concerns.

His visits to the island lately have been anything but relaxing. 

Avatar Aang has been hidden from public view for the past few years. Any messages to the people of Republic City and the nations have been given through Tenzin. Kurt knows it’s to preserve the image of Aang in his prime, but sometimes he thinks the world could benefit from the reminder that Aang is only human. 

Kurt nods as he passes the White Lotus members stationed outside of the bedroom. He pulls back the curtain just a fraction, his heart stuttering a little at the image of Katara and Aang together. 

Katara could easily care for her husband herself, but she told Kurt that she doesn’t want to miss out on a single second of the remainder of Aang’s life. He understands all too well. Healing takes a focus that doesn’t leave much room for personal feelings, or quiet moments like this one, both of them curled up on the bed with their fingers laced.

“I’ve always liked your hands,” muses Aang, tracing the back of Katara’s hand with his thumb. Even though his voice sounds softer now, there’s a light quality in Aang’s words, amused and matching the shine of his eyes.

“These old things,” Katara smiles in reply, shaking her head as she clasps her free hand on top of their laced ones, rubbing gently against skin. “That didn’t stop you from nearly scarring me the first time you learned how to firebend.”

“Not even old age will let that memory fade,” he murmurs, raising Katara’s hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. “But hey, don’t I also get to take credit for helping you realize your potential as a healer?”

With a noncommittal hum, Katara presses her nose against Aang’s temple, and her eyes fall to a gradual close. It isn’t the first time that Kurt’s happened across a moment like this. As far back as he can remember, Katara’s been a part of his life, a second mother who was present when the details of the first started to fade with time. Even though Avatar Aang’s duties kept him away from the South Pole most of the time, Kurt recalls his visits well, always full of warmth and laughter as they lit up Katara’s expression with an unparalleled ease. 

The only difference now is the sense of urgency. A lack of time.

Kurt takes advantage of the silence to announce his presence. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” 

“It’s fine, Kurt. We’ve been expecting you,” Katara replies with a smile, while Aang raises his free hand to usher Kurt inside. 

The healing basin and pitcher of water, the typical setup for Kurt’s visits, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a tray of tea cups and a kettle. 

Katara, seeming to follow Kurt’s gaze, quickly explains the change of scenery. “Now I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m afraid I wasn’t honest about this being a professional call. It’s more of a personal one.” 

“Oh?” Kurt can’t think of what personal business he would have with Aang and Katara. He immediately assumes the worst. Are they firing him? Had his moonlighting finally caught up to him? He hadn’t thought that the quality of his work was suffering, but he could be wrong, and if there’s anyone who can’t afford a lesser quality of care, it’s the Avatar. 

“Relax, Kurt,” Katara instructs gently. “You aren’t in any trouble. We just wanted to discuss the direction we’re taking with Aang’s care.”

“I can speak for myself, you know,” Aang cuts in, his tone teasing. He has always been a lighthearted man, even in tougher situations. Immediately, Katara falls quiet, and Kurt spots a slight tightening at either corner of her mouth. Sensing his misstep, Aang carefully wraps an arm around her shoulders. Kurt doesn’t miss the fact that Aang’s hold isn’t as tight as it used to be.

His chest tightens.

“Kurt, out of all the people who have looked after me lately, you might be the one who’s worked the hardest. And you know that I consider you to be part of the family,” Aang continues. When Kurt tenses, he reaches out, palm facing up, silently asking for Kurt’s hand. Quietly, Kurt steps closer to the bed, sitting directly beside Aang. “We’ve decided to discontinue treatment. I would still appreciate your services, of course, but nothing extraordinary from here on out.”

The look on Katara’s face seems to say she isn’t in totally agreement with Aang’s words, but Kurt feels it isn’t his place to point that out. 

Still, what they’re asking for is big. He feels he deserves at least some explanation. Even as his hand rests in both of Aang’s, he can’t tell whose are shaking.

“Why now? Why _me_?” 

“Because you’re the person we feel we can trust this with.” 

Aang _had_ told him that he thought of him as family.

“And as for why now,” Aang continues, “We had been waiting to get everything in order - my affairs and those of the nations. It seems that time has come.” 

Kurt has known several kinds of fear in his life. The fear of almost losing his father, the fear of leaving the South Pole, and even the fear of almost losing Blaine. This is a different sort of fear, though. One of letting people down. 

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll do it.” 

A little fear has never stopped him before.


	2. Chapter 2

_Councilman Wesley Sung is to hold an open house this Friday in regards to the issue of recent bending attacks on civilians. Avatar Aang is rumored to make his first public appearance in the past fourteen months, but some are skeptical. Interim Councilman Tenzin has been doubling as the Avatar’s press secretary and council representative during Avatar Aang’s time away from the spotlight._

_In a recent interview, police chief Toph Bei Fong insisted that the Avatar’s health had never been better._

_An undisclosed source close to Fire Lord Zuko claims that the Avatar’s health has been deteriorating for quite some time._

_Avatar Aang’s personal healer, Kurt Hummel, couldn’t be reached for comment._

Kurt isn’t used to seeing his name in the paper somewhere other than the sports section. It’s a little unnerving, and his hands tremble as he carefully folds up the paper, resisting the urge to crumple it — Blaine hasn’t had his turn yet. The anger still remains, though; Kurt’s role as Aang’s healer wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge, so either someone on his staff let it slip, or the press has been making assumptions about his frequent visits to Airbender Island. 

This side of the media has always disgusted Kurt, but luckily, he learned from Blaine how to deal with them. The Dragonhawks’ once meteoritic rise to success left him no other choice. 

But keeping Aang’s condition under wraps feels a lot more important than avoiding sports reporters. 

For the most part, keeping busy has afforded Kurt some time to process his new job description. With an endless list of duties to take care of, he’s able to avoid prying questions; still, there’s a lot of pressure that comes from keeping Aang’s secrets. Especially considering the fact that one of them involves his impending death. 

Talking to Blaine has helped. A burden shared is a burden halved. 

Standing at the door of the White Lotus building on the outskirts of Republic City, Kurt wonders what other surprises this week has in store for him. 

-

“Councilman Sokka, I have to say, it’s an honor to even be asked here—” 

“You can’t really say that,” Sokka cuts in, lips curved in a small grin. “You don’t know why I’ve asked you here yet.” 

Kurt flushes. Even though he spent the majority of his life living among the Southern Water Tribe and under Katara’s guidance, Sokka is someone he’s never closely interacted with. Unlike his sister, who opted to rebuild the South Pole and took up the position of chief, Sokka’s later years have been spent helping to oversee the development of Republic City. Any trips he made back home in that time were short and few.

To Kurt, Sokka is still the person he read about in books as a kid. One of the heroes of the 100 Years War, armed only with a boomerang. 

“Right,” Kurt agrees, trying to ignore the warmth spreading to his ears. Having members of the White Lotus at Sokka’s side makes him even more nervous; seeming to sense the tension, Sokka turns to his peers and dismisses them.

“Think you can give us a little privacy here?” he murmurs, and his companions back away easily, affording both of them a wide berth.

Breathing in relief, Kurt shakes his head slightly, pressing his lips tightly together. “If this is about Avatar Aang, I’m sure you know that I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“I know that, Kurt.” As he shakes his head, Sokka’s expression grows distant, his eyes momentarily clouding over. “In case you’re worried, I’ve already discussed Aang’s recent decision with my sister. He... always had to be the first at everything. I guess this is no different.” 

Any concerns that Kurt has about this talk start to seep away — they don’t disappear entirely, but Kurt understands that there’s probably nothing he knows that hasn’t already been shared in their group. They’ve been a family since childhood, and suddenly Kurt feels in over his head. What is there to say? He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, knowing that he’s in the middle of a private matter. Aang might have considered Kurt family for years, but does Sokka? 

“But I didn’t bring you here to talk about Aang.” 

Kurt hides his relieved exhale as much as he can, feeling a twinge of guilt. 

“The White Lotus is preparing for what’s to come next. We will be sending scouts to the North and South Poles to find the next Avatar. As you can imagine, we want to avoid a repeat of what happened in Aang’s childhood; his absence during the start of the 100 Years War sent the world into a long period of imbalance. This time, we want to have instructors for all of the elements readily available for the next Avatar. Obviously, Tenzin will take care of airbending. If Chief Bei Fong ever retires, she’ll probably cover earthbending, potentially with the aid of some of her ranks. Firebending is still a toss up; we need someone who has mastered lightning, and the Fire Nation hasn’t been eager to send over their best benders to Republic City.” Sokka shakes his head, brow furrowed in his distraction. “Sorry, I’m getting off track. We’ve been discussing who we’d like to have teach the next Avatar waterbending, and your name has come up time and time again.” 

Kurt’s eyes widen, and his heart starts to race in his chest. There’s something about speaking of the next Avatar that leaves him rooted in place. Aang isn’t even _gone_ yet. “But Sokka, my specialty is healing,” he stammers, trying to hold his ground, make Katara proud. “Isn’t there someone more suitable for the task?”

“You were also a waterbender for one of the most successful probending teams in the league. You’re versatile. We need that for the next Avatar.” 

Breathing slowly, Kurt shakes his head.

“I... don’t know what to say.” 

“Well, you could say yes,” Sokka points out, raising a brow. 

“I...” 

If Kurt had encountered this decision at the beginning of his time in Republic City, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Now, he glances to the side, thinking of all the ways in which his life might be uprooted by the change. “Would it require a lot of travel?” 

“We would require your assistance in the South Pole, yes. At my age, I wouldn’t be able to make the journey by myself, and we would be exploring leads in both the North and South Pole.” 

Kurt thinks first of his patients. Secondly, Blaine. 

Sending Kurt’s hesitation, Sokka continues to press, leaning forward with a watchful expression. “Tell me what we need to do to get you on board.” 

“My patients,” Kurt starts, his tone apologetic. “Well, I’m not exactly seeing them in an _official_ capacity...” 

“Katara will take care of it. She might not be able to cover the volume of patients I assume you’re seeing, but she will do what she can and her hands are very capable.” 

“And, Blaine...” 

“Blaine is currently on the other side of this wall, receiving more or less the same pitch as you are from my advisor.” 

It all makes sense now, why Sokka hadn’t mentioned any names while discussing a firebending master. If Kurt weren’t aware of how broadly politics always play into these matters, he might have been offended by the secrecy; as things are now, it simply reads of desperation.

Kurt glances over at the wall, wondering what’s going through Blaine’s mind. Blaine, who has been so lost lately. While Kurt’s more or less found his stride in the city, Blaine hasn’t had the same luck, and Kurt sees that every time they share a meal, Blaine being more hesitant to explain how his day’s gone. 

“I’ll need to talk this over with Blaine.”

“Of course,” Sokka says. He bows before Kurt, hands neatly folded, and it takes Kurt a minute to recover before he can do the same. If anything makes it clear how much faith and trust he’s been given, it’s receiving this level of respect from the people he’s always admired most.

It’s a lot to take in. 

-

Kurt finds Blaine in the lobby of the White Lotus headquarters, pacing back and forth in front of one of the fountains. Before Blaine notices his approach, Kurt reaches out with a hand to bend a splash of water, letting it hit Blaine in a burst of powdered snow. He’s rewarded a second later with a laugh as Blaine sighs, their eyes meeting quickly.

They sober a moment later, too much left to discuss.

“I didn’t know you had a meeting here today,” Kurt says evenly, reaching out for Blaine’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “We could have come together.” 

“I didn’t know either,” Blaine responds quickly, shaking his head. “Councilman Sokka sent for me after you left.” 

It’s a sneaky move, but even from Sokka’s reputation alone, Kurt knows to expect it.

“Well?” Kurt asks. “How’d it go?” 

“It’s an incredible offer,” Blaine exhales, his eyes bright and cheeks lightly flushed. “Being part of something like that, it would be amazing. I... don’t know how I could say no. But I would, for you.” 

“And who says I’m saying no?” Kurt asks, offering a small smile as he laces their fingers.

Blaine tilts his head, letting out a small, endeared sigh. “The patients, Kurt. I know it’d be hard, maybe even impossible for you to leave them, and I’m not going to force you to just uproot your practice—”

“—Katara will be here,” Kurt points out quickly, and in his rush, he realizes that the tightness in his chest feels almost like excitement. More than anything else, he believes strongly in the cycle of the Avatar, and in doing whatever he can to help keep the world balanced and open for everyone. “She’s just as able and willing to help as I am.” 

“Oh.” Blaine’s eyes widen. In spite of the impassioned flush of his cheeks, it’s clear that he was prepared to say no, to turn down an offer out of his love for Kurt and their life together. 

Kurt smiles. “In fact, the only thing that made me hesitate was you.” 

Blaine smiles.

They might need a few days to discuss logistics, but Kurt’s pretty sure they’ve already made their decision. 

-

As they head home together, Kurt feels a little lighter, the tightness in his chest quickly alleviating. He’s already thrilled to show Blaine the South Pole, the place he once called home. There hasn’t been either time or reason to return much since he met Blaine, so it feels like the fates are aligning. 

The cycle of the Avatar is steady in many ways, like the passing of the seasons. Each element aligns with a different time of year, the spring of earth easily passing into the fires of summer, while air whistles through trees in autumn, and winter brings with it snow and sleet. Most people know that the Avatar is born regularly into the four nations, but fewer are aware of the shift between the poles.

Everything about the 100 Years War had been a matter of strategy. From wiping out the Air Nomads entirely to choosing the South Pole as the greater target of their attacks, the Fire Nation did everything they could to disrupt the cycle of the Avatar. As far back as anyone can remember, the Avatar cycle has alternated between the North and the South.

Avatar Kuruk was from the Northern Water Tribe. All signs point to the South Pole being the home of the next incarnation. 

Kurt freezes a few feet from the door when he notices a woman waiting there. The city’s population has been restless as of late, more attacks occurring now than ever before, and with the Council choosing to turn greater attention to the crime spree, there’s bound to be backlash. Until decisions are made and written into law, Kurt knows he should be more careful with who he treats after hours. 

“I’m sorry, miss,” he says, walking over with Blaine following shortly behind. “The clinic is a few blocks up the road. If money is the issue, I’ll be happy to help you, but I’m afraid money is all I can help with right now.” 

She lowers her hood, and Blaine gasps.

“Lady Rachel?”

“Master Blaine,” she says, bowing. Through the movement, Rachel winces, and that’s when Kurt notices the odd angle her arm is bent at. 

“You know her?” Kurt whispers, frowning as he turns to face Blaine. 

“Kurt, she works for Wes.” 

In all of the years Kurt has spent treating patients in their home, Blaine has never asked him for favors. Not even when his favorite benders in the amateur leagues suffered from injuries. 

This is why Kurt’s heart hammers when Blaine murmurs — “Please?” 

-

“Lady Rachel, you need to tell me everything that happened,” Blaine instructs gently. He’s taken his usual role at Kurt’s side, fetching water and distracting the patient while Kurt works, a soft glow of water emanating throughout the room. “This is important.” 

“I was leaving Councilman Wes’ office,” she says quietly, voice still wavering. “There were three of them. _Waiting_. For the Councilman, I think.” 

“Why do you think they were waiting for Wes?”

“There’s a town hall tomorrow. There have been letters coming in, scary letters. He tells me to throw them away, but I can’t bear to. Public opinion is of the _utmost_ importance and—”

“What did the letters say?

“They...” Rachel’s eyes are watery, but no tears fall. Instead, her cheeks flush in determination. “They want him dead.” 

Kurt’s hands shake a little, causing him to drop the basin of water he had been preparing for Rachel’s wounds. It’s hard not to imagine Blaine in Wes’ position, receiving threats; the public knows pretty well of Blaine’s involvement with Council affairs, and the news always follows those from noble families, no matter how far removed. Even more than before, Kurt wants nothing more than to leave for the South Pole first in the morning. 

“You did good, Rachel.” Blaine squeezes the shoulder of her good arm, then winces. “I’m sorry. I meant Lady Rachel.” 

“Rachel is fine,” she says, giving him a weak smile. “Now how about you tell that beautiful guy of yours not to mess up on my arm. My custom-fit robes for the town hall have short sleeves, and I don’t want for there to be any marks.” 

Blaine chuckles. He looks so relieved that Kurt can’t even bring himself to chide Rachel for her comments.

“Well, I assure you that you’re in the best of hands,” murmurs Kurt quietly, smiling before he sets to work. Licking his lower lip, Kurt feels Blaine’s hands squeeze his shoulders briefly, and elbows his well-intentioned boyfriend out of the way. Rachel and Blaine continue to talk in the background, mostly catching up on Council matters that have taken place since Blaine was last in the office, and their voices are a nice, soothing backdrop as Kurt works.

Only after Kurt starts to work at the bone does he pause, eyes darker as he glances up, trying to keep his voice even as he clears his throat.

“Rachel, I don’t mean to raise any alarms, but were any of the notes signed, or have all of them been anonymous?” Kurt asks quietly. From the side, Blaine stirs, scooting in closer.

“Uhm...” Rachel pauses, blinking through her confusion and frowning as she draws back on memory. “I think a lot of them came in unsigned. Anyone who was willing to sign with their name was usually a lot more reasonable. Some of them had this little painted symbol on the corner though, like a splash of color or something. Why?”

Kurt shakes his head, feeling both pairs of eyes trained intently on him. “I was just curious.”

It’s probably obvious to both Blaine and Rachel that he’s hiding something from them, but Kurt can’t be bothered to field their questions just yet. For now, he needs to heal Rachel’s injury.

As soon as that’s done, he needs to have a talk with Lin about the Triple Threats.

***

It’s tempting for Blaine to advise Wes to delay the town hall, but he knows as well as Wes does that these issues are important. Left unattended, they could simmer over into something even worse. 

But that doesn’t stop him from using his newly discovered pull with the White Lotus to have them guard the town hall meeting. 

Sebastian Smythe, the Council representative for the Northern Water Tribe, stands by the doors. He seems to be fixated on the presence of White Lotus, eyes watchful as he weaves through them, practically ignoring their greetings as he gravitates to the more familiar members of the police force. Blaine overhears Smythe asking who summoned the Order, so he steps forward.

“That would be me.” 

Recognition immediately settles over Sebastian’s features, and his lips fall into a small smile, slightly strained. “This is a town hall, Anderson, not a probending match. We aren’t expecting any riots this evening.” 

“Then clearly your office has done a good job of sheltering you from public opinion,” Blaine mutters. He knows he should play nice with the other Councilmembers, especially for Wes’ sake, but it rubs him the wrong way, how out of touch Sebastian is. 

“If the White Lotus want to waste their forces here, I won’t be the person to stop them,” smiles Sebastian, waving a hand dismissively. 

Blaine bristles slightly, but not without a touch of curiosity. It’s still possible that Sebastian knows more than Blaine thinks he does. He’s only had a couple of days to acquaint himself with the White Lotus. “And what makes you so sure of the motivations of the Order, anyway?”

“Well, it’s not official yet, but you’re looking at their next advisor from the Northern Water Tribe,” Sebastian says, looking far too pleased with himself. 

There’s an open opportunity to share news of his role with the White Lotus, as well as Kurt’s appointment as the Avatar’s waterbending trainer, but Blaine was taught not to brag.

“Congratulations, Sebastian.” 

-

“We’ve called together this town hall in response to the high volume of letters we’ve received regarding the heightened incidence of crime lately in Republic City.”

From the first row of the audience, Blaine watches Wes stand in the center of the dais, papers in hand that he hardly needs to reference at all. Ever since Rachel’s injury, Wes has been toiling day and night to prepare himself for this gathering, doing whatever he can to ensure that he can direct the conversation where it needs to go.

Around him, the crowd murmurs restlessly, and Blaine hears the whispers about Avatar Aang’s health, members of the press already scribbling on their pads and readying their questions.

“This meeting is _not_ intended to address the matter of the Avatar’s recent decisions regarding his treatment and long-term plans,” Wes continues, and immediately the crowd breaks into questions, even as Wes raises a hand to quiet them. “We will continue to keep the city informed as details are released.”

From the side, there’s movement, and Blaine watches as Toph Bei Fong enters the room and seats a few of her officers along the perimeter of the room. It feels like her presence, more than anything else, starts to settle the crowd. The military isn’t often required to directly attend these meetings, certainly not in the numbers that are present today.

It sets the tone of their discussion.

“Between my fellow esteemed members of the Council and myself, most of the measures that we’ve discussed include heightened levels of police patrol through the evening hours, when most of the attacks have taken place. We are also considering raising restrictions on certain types of bending, such as that of lightning, and containing them to the workplace.”

All around Blaine, people are muttering, a rising sea of sound. So far, everything that Wes has suggested seems to be only an extension of what already exists in the city, and so the audience is caught in discontent. But bureaucracy is often slow; Blaine thinks this response shouldn’t surprise anyone.

“But as always, the Council is open to suggestions—”

“Excuse me!”

To the right of Blaine, a young man rises to his feet, shoulders squared and eyes caught in a sharp glare.

“As grateful as I am to Chief Bei Fong and her army of iron-clad thugs, I’m not seeing any progress in the supposed changes you’re enacting. Actually, I’m not seeing any _change_ at all. Councilman Sung, I am a nonbender just like yourself, and I’m saddened by how much our society caters to the whims of the benders. I can’t think of a single useful thing that bending has brought us outside of the workplace. Even the Avatar has been known to use it for selfish purposes over reincarnations.”

“For _shame!_ ” a stranger yells in the crowd, accompanied by other noises of protests.

The man continues to stand his ground as members of the audience argue amongst themselves. “Why don’t we just restrict all bending? In case you haven’t noticed, all of the crimes lately have been committed by benders. The problem seems pretty clear to me.”

Wes clears his throat, the expression on his face conflicted, but falls silent as another citizen rises to her feet.

“Pardon _me_ for interrupting, but are you _serious?_ Do you really think that restricting the rights of the majority is going to stop people from breaking laws and committing crimes? No; criminals will be criminals, and I’d like to see Chief Bei Fong’s numbers before anyone starts pointing fingers and calling bending the core of the problem,” the middle-aged woman protests, smoothing down her robes. “If anything, you need to train people to protect themselves, give more funds to the police so that they can pull longer shifts. You know who we applaud in history as being an effective leader? Avatar Kyoshi.”

“You’re Earth Kingdom, aren’t you? And how well did those patrols do in Ba Sing Se, huh? Yeah, the Dai Li were _such_ an effective method of keeping crime down, why don’t we just apply that model everywhere?”

“Well _your_ suggestion of restricting all bending sounds a whole lot like the Fire Nation a hundred years ago.” It wasn’t that long ago that the Fire Nation soldiers were rounding up earthbenders and throwing them into prison camps, after all.

Blaine’s eyes widen as citizens rise to their feet all around the hall, forcing Chief Bei Fong and her officers to disperse and try to keep the crowd contained. As raucous as the audience is, Blaine remains mostly rooted to the spot, still trying to process all the ideas that the people are proposing. Truth be told, he’s never thought about taking drastic measures one way or the other. Neither policy on the table sounds right, but more than ever before, Blaine thinks that he’s starting to understand the frustrations of the people, and the binary that’s being drawn in the population, whether it’s wanted or not.

“Citizens, please,” says Wes, frowning as he calls for order with a few sharp bangs of his gavel. “We value all of your opinions, but there needs to be order in this meeting for us to progress.”

From behind where Wes stands, Blaine notices that Sebastian’s already risen to his feet, weaving his way to the front of the stage and standing directly beside Wes.

“Speaking as the representative from the Northern Water Tribe, I can say for a fact that I will do everything in my power to protect the rights of benders and additionally that I don’t believe any restriction on bending is required to find order,” he says, carefully raising his voice. Somehow, he commands the attention of the crowd, and one by one, people return to their seats as Sebastian speaks. “The North Pole enjoys full freedom to bend as one likes, and has for decades, yet our crime rates are low and economic expansion high. I’m sure that there’s another solution. Setting limits to bending isn’t it.”

From the way Wes looks at Sebastian before the latter Councilman returns to his seat, Blaine wonders if he’s annoyed by the statement. Blaine would be, if he were in Wes’ position. Strictly speaking, a unilateral statement made by any single member of the Council doesn’t have any weight as far as legislation goes. However, the perception is already there.

It’ll be hard for the Council to go back on Sebastian’s word if they want to maintain any picture of unity.

“Thank you, Councilman Smythe, but if we could get back to the agenda.”

Before Sebastian returns to his seat, he nods in the direction of the audience, calling Wes’ attention to one person standing towards the back of the crowd, raising her good arm while her other hangs in a sling.

“Pardon me, but before we move on,” she says, her voice clear, and immediately familiar to Blaine. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I move to add the idea of bender registration to today’s town hall. In listening to the concerns of the people, I agree that a complete restriction of bending is extreme, as is the idea of pouring countless funds into the military to ultimately do more of the same. But all of us seem to agree that some laws are necessary. I propose that having a system where all benders register with the government will make it easier to trace down rule-breakers, and potentially protect the law-abiding as well.”

Blaine hadn’t intended to speak at this gathering, but he is out of his chair before he can make a conscious decision, eyes bright as he quickly processes Rachel’s suggestion. “Councilman Sung, if I may interrupt, registering the cities’ benders might not be the worst idea. It could help law enforcement with their current open cases—” 

“Excuse me,” a woman cuts in. “My daughter didn’t nearly lose her head by taking the wrong street home from her work so I would have to listen to some jock try to talk policy.” 

Blaine meets Wes’ gaze. It’s apologetic, but there’s nothing he can do for him. If Blaine had wanted to have a say in these matters, he could have taken a different path a few years back. He takes his seat again, making sure to avoid the stern gaze of the woman who had interrupted him. 

Those few seconds seem to be all that’s necessary to give Sebastian room to speak up again. “Registering benders would be the first stop along the road to full on discrimination. There’s no way of knowing what that information might be used for.” Sebastian pauses to nod over at Blaine. “Even if the intent is to protect, there’s nothing keeping employers from using it to keep someone out of a job. Wrongful arrests could be made as a result. We need the police force to expand their patrol, not to put all of our bending citizens into some... catalogue.”

Again, Wes bangs his gavel, eyes skirting over to the nearest clock. “In the interest of time, I am going to move that we table this discussion until next town hall. We on the Council will do our best to determine the feasibility of all the proposals made today and come back with a better idea of our plans moving forward. But to any citizens who would like to personally express their opinion, our offices are open on weekdays from eight to four, and our mailboxes all week.”

***

“How’d it go?” Kurt asks.

“It was a mess.” 

“I’m not surprised. I heard they ended up sending the entire police force to the assembly.” 

Blaine nods. “Yeah, but the Chief managed to keep everyone in line.” 

There have been whispers over the years about Chief Bei Fong’s ability to lead the police force in her old age, but she has never given the city a reason to doubt her. She tells the press she plans to wear her badge until they bury her, and she means it. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kurt dries his hands on a dish towel by the sink. 

“I trust your night was uneventful?” 

“Puck dragged me in on some Dragonhawks business. Marley took a disc to her cheek, poor thing.” Kurt purses his lips in sympathy.

With a small wince, Blaine scratches his head, expression sheepish. “I completely forgot the season had started. I told Puck I was going to try to make it to their first match...” 

“He understands,” Kurt replies lightly. “I told him you sent your regards.” 

Blaine rolls his eyes, stepping to Kurt’s side and giving him a silent nudge of his hip. 

“Okay,” mutters Kurt, “I told him not to run our legacy into the ground with this batch of new recruits.” 

Grinning widely, Blaine wraps a hand over Kurt’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before ducking down just far enough to press a peck against the curve. “That’s more like it. How did Marley get hit with the disc, anyway?” 

“Other team’s earthbender was feeling a little impatient before the match started. She didn’t even have her helmet on. The refs fought it out a little, but they weren’t disqualified.” Kurt shakes his head, sighing between his teeth. “I don’t remember it being nearly that... aggressive when we were involved.” 

“I don’t think it’s just the league; the entire city has been tense lately. People are nervous about the bending violence. There’s been a lot of demand for benders to be registered.” 

Kurt twists the dish towel in his hands. “Registered? That’s insanity. Blaine, dove, please tell me you plan on talking to Wes.” 

Blaine’s lips quirk up a little at the endearment, but his expression quickly falls. “Kurt... I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you want to involve yourself, or you don’t know if you agree with me?” Kurt narrows his eyes, watching Blaine’s expression closely. If nothing else, it’s clear that Blaine feels conflicted. Even now, sometimes the difference in their opinions surprises Kurt.

“You’ve seen this city over the past few months. It’s not the place it was when you first arrived. I know at least a few of those patients you have been treating were hurt by the Triple Threats.” Blaine exhales. “Factory accidents, Kurt? No one has ice cuts from a factory accident.” 

“You might be right,” Kurt concedes. “But I only know of one for sure.” 

“It was the boy who was in here last week, wasn’t it? The one who took ice to his leg?” 

“No,” Kurt shakes his head. He should have told Blaine when it happened, but Blaine’s connection to Wes would make it hard for Lin’s injury to be kept under wraps. With her being missing from the public eye since it happened, Kurt wants to preserve her privacy while he still can. 

He knows he shouldn’t lie to Blaine, but Kurt can’t help but think that loyalty to a friend should outweigh questionable political responsibilities. “It was the girl, with the electrical burns.” 

“I should have known.” 

“That’s beside the point, Blaine. We can’t have them registering us like we’re criminals. If government interference ever kept me from my patients, I don’t know what I would do.” 

“Yes you do,” Blaine says softly. “You would see patients regardless, just like you always do.” 

“I’d like to think that, but I can’t get myself arrested trying. I have people depending on me.”

Even though Kurt tries to will Blaine to understand with a look, when Blaine steps closer and wraps his arms snugly around Kurt’s waist, Kurt isn’t sure that he gets it. He considers pointing out for a moment that even if nothing happens to the majority of benders who register, that signing their names down alone puts them under the government’s scrutiny.

Not unlike the supervision Blaine himself received when he was younger.

“Like me,” Blaine murmurs, and Kurt startles from his reverie.

Gradually, he relaxes into a smile.

“Like you.” Pausing, Kurt sighs in surrender, letting himself lean into Blaine’s hold. “Let’s talk about this again tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan. I think we’ve both done enough work for one day.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We apologize for the delay in posting, it's been a busy month for both of us. :)

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Kurt deadpans.

He’s thankful that Blaine is out for the evening with Puck, because the last thing Kurt needs right now is for Blaine to find out about Lin. It would mean admitting that Kurt wasn’t truthful with him, and that isn’t something he wants to deal with at the moment.

Some things are bigger than their relationship, and this is one of them. 

“Trust me, Hummel, this isn’t my idea of a fun afternoon, either.” Lin pushes past him and gracelessly throws herself on the couch in the living room. 

Kurt can’t _see_ any injuries, and he almost thinks that this might be a social call. 

“It’s my back, Water Tribe,” Lin says, arching a brow as she looks back over her shoulder. “You’re not getting off that easily.” 

Back injuries are among the most delicate to heal for earthbenders, whose strength lies in their lower bodies, the shock of impact often going directly through their spine. If he’s lucky, they’ll be here for a few hours. Knowing Lin, it’ll probably be much longer.

Kurt sighs. “I’ll get my things.” 

He knows he could simply assume that Lin had a rough day of training, but Kurt knows better by now. The scars on her face remind him of their last meeting, and he worries that her current complaint is related. 

When he returns with the basin, Lin is already starting to doze off. He shakes her shoulder roughly. “No sleeping; I still have to check your head.” Kurt is always cautious when it comes to potential head injuries, and has been ever since Blaine’s accident in their probending days. 

“I told you, it’s my _back_ ,” she snarls. 

“And what was it this time?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. 

“Who do you think? Their earthbender knocked me into the side of a building. I would have had him if I hadn’t slipped on ice.” 

“Lin, you have to stop trying to fight all of them. You’re only one person.”

Kurt watches his words practically bounce right off, waved aside dismissively as Lin slumps back down against the couch. “How about you do your healing thing and I try to protect the city I love. Stick to what you know, okay?” 

Something in her words grates, and Kurt drops the water he had been preparing back into the basin, heart pounding in his ears. “So you think you can bring danger into my home _and_ talk to me like that? Lin, this isn’t like you. You’re being so... _reckless_.”

Lin has always been a risk-taker, but sneakily trying to learn metalbending was more of her style. Not nearly getting herself killed by criminals night after night. 

“If you’re not going to help me, I can go find someone else.” 

He’s already lied for her. If Lin went sought out other healing now, it would feel like his lie was for nothing. “Lin, I didn’t mean that.” He gently squeezes her shoulder, concern showing under furrowed brows. “I’ll help you, okay? Just... don’t talk to me that way.” 

“So don’t judge me, Kurt.” 

It’s a compromise, but it’s one Kurt can live with.

***

_The Ember Island players will be performing in Republic City’s Cabbage Corp Hall this weekend. Tickets on sale now!_

 _Cooper Anderson is to reprise his role at Prince Zuko._

“We _have_ to go,” Kurt says, expression bright as he thrusts the flyer in Blaine’s hand. 

It’s hard for Blaine not to want to roll his eyes. He loves Cooper, but the reason Blaine was left with so much of the responsibility to uphold the family name in politics at such a young age was _because_ Cooper was off gallivanting with his theater troupe. 

But he also knows that they could receive assignments from the White Lotus any day now. It isn’t the time to be holding grudges, not when he could be half a world away in a matter of weeks. 

“Fine,” Blaine says, taking the flyer and folding it neatly before slipping it into his pocket. “I’m sure Cooper will be thrilled.” 

“We could bring Tenzin along,” Kurt suggests quickly. “I could grab him during my next trip to the island, tell him he has no say in the matter. Maybe we could send Lin a raven?”

“Kurt, what have I told you about saying out of their business?” Blaine scolds.

“That I should stay out of their business?” Kurt says, a playful smile on his lips. “Come on, I don’t see the harm.” 

Blaine knows that he and Kurt don’t see eye to eye on certain things. Typically, they can agree to disagree, but when it comes to Lin and Tenzin, Kurt doesn’t seem to want to let it go.

***

People who describe the night as being quiet never listen closely enough, Lin thinks. Even as the streets remain mostly barren at this time of evening, with families gathered around the hearth and factory machines at a complete standstill, there are always little noises that one can find if they pay close attention. The wind, for one, whistles through the streets. Even though it’s the element she’s supposed to be the least attuned to, growing up around the people she did has given Lin a greater appreciation of air. It carries sound, it flows with movement, and when she closes her eyes, it’s the only thing other than the earth that she notices.

Sometimes, it’s aggravating. There is nothing in the world that Lin can fight against less, nothing that distracts her more.

But that’s why she’s out here, curbing her restlessness by keeping a closer eye on the city. She feels the unrest pounding through the ground, and sometimes Lin can’t help but wonder who her mother thinks she’s trying to fool when Toph says she has it all under control.

In the distance, she hears footsteps echoing, and a shattering of glass. Quickly, Lin kicks off both shoes, the road shifting under her feet as she tears down the block and towards the source of the noise.

“What the—”

It’s completely dark outside, but she’s never needed light to see. The Triple Threats always come in threes, one of each element, and it’s always the earthbender who strikes out first. Earthbenders like balance. They like parity.

She dodges the slabs of stone easily, lips quirking as she keeps light on her feet, turns on her toes and side steps the attack. “You need to try a _lot_ harder than that,” she tells them.

She shakes the earth before the police even have time to respond.

***

“I have to reclaim,” Cooper pauses, and points towards the lovely young girl playing Aang. “...my _honor_.”

Kurt giggles beside him. 

Blaine wants to melt from his seat onto the floor. He remembers the first time it became apparent that Cooper hadn’t been touched by the elements, despite the fact that both of their parents were skilled firebenders. Cooper never had the patience for chi blocking nor the interest in politics. 

He told their parents that the theater was calling his name. Prince Zuko was the role he was born to play. 

“This play is the biggest embarrassment to our nations’ history,” Blaine mutters. 

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Tenzin adds, voice flat. 

In retrospect, Blaine’s glad that Kurt extended an invitation to Tenzin. He’s even more grateful that the raven Kurt sent off to Lin went unanswered. Kurt probably thought he was being sneaky in sending it. He wasn’t.

“Oh, _shhh_ ,” Kurt replies, batting Blaine on the shoulder and rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t be whining half as much if it weren’t for the fact that Cooper’s in this play. Look, I think it’s nice when everyone can look back on harder times and laugh a little.”

Blaine pouts, but it’s Tenzin who interrupts first. “It’s _demeaning_ and detracts from the lessons that we all ought learn from these events in history,” he asserts, leaning forward to meet Kurt’s eyes.

“Demeaning even though it’s practically sanctioned by Chief Katara?” Kurt asks, wagging his head and lifting his chin into the air.

Even though Blaine’s inclined to agree with Tenzin, he has to admit, Kurt is aggravatingly cute.

“Don’t you bring my mother into this!” Tenzin complains, immediately shattering his composed demeanor, flushing a deeper red when Kurt blows a raspberry in teasing.

“How did you two manage to remain such good friends for so long?” asks Blaine, grinning in spite of himself as he pats Tenzin placatingly on the shoulder.

Tenzin huffs in reply, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he grouses. “I couldn’t take my mother’s favorite student from her by pushing him off a cliff into the icy depths below, so I learned to deal.” 

Blaine smiles before refocusing his attention on the play. The man playing Toph tonight has really nice arms. Catching his gaze, Kurt grins widely before leaning closer on the bench. They try not to be too obnoxious while in public, but the theater is pretty dimly lit, affording them a little more privacy. Even though he’s still not sure about their choice of show, it’s nice to have some breathing room after everything that’s happened, and as he glances to his side, he’s even able to catch a glimpse of Tenzin’s shoulders relaxing as well. It might be the first time in weeks that Tenzin’s had any meaningful time away from the Council and familial responsibilities.

-

“So, I heard you two lovebirds are running away to the South Pole,” Cooper says in that infuriating way of his.

Blaine has never been more glad to see him. 

“That’s supposed to be confidential.” 

“I may have chatted up someone at Councilman Sokka’s office.” 

Of course he did. Blaine rolls his eyes. “I was going to tell you.” 

“You don’t need to explain a thing, little brother. As an artist, I go wherever inspiration takes me.” 

Being summoned for important business regarding the Avatar seems a little more important to Blaine than a traveling theater troupe, but he’s learned over the years to let Cooper think what he wants. 

“You nervous?” 

The question catches Blaine off guard. No one has asked him that yet. 

Cooper, seeming to sense his hesitance, reaches out and gives Blaine’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry, you’ll have Kurt.”

Blaine was sent off to Republic City at a young age. Although he was passive about it, he had always had a desire to leave at some point. To go back to the Fire Nation, maybe, but perhaps to one of the places Blaine had read so much about. 

Not that Blaine had possessed the courage to actually go. For the longest time he did what he was told. 

Being sent to Republic City might be something he’ll always resent his family for a little, but it’s the place where he met Kurt. It’s the place where he created his new family.

And now, it’s the place where his adventures are going to begin.

-

Blaine leaves Cooper and Kurt to chat while he steps outside for some air. Apparently he wasn’t the only one with this idea.

“Tenzin,” he nods in greeting. 

“Blaine.” 

“I’m sorry to hear your father isn’t doing well,” Blaine says quietly, as not to alert the stragglers from the show to their conversation. 

“I appreciate your kindness,” Tenzin says.

The response sounds so careful, so planned. Blaine was raised in a similar fashion, so he understands Tenzin doesn’t mean to be cold. 

“Listen, we have about ten minutes until Cooper say something unknowingly offensive in reference to Kurt’s profession and he comes over here, so I’m going to make this quick.” He chances a quick glance over to Kurt and Cooper, and smiles and waves when he catches Kurt’s eye. “Lin’s been by the house,” he continues, not looking at Tenzin as he speaks. “A lot.” 

“Lin isn’t really one for social calls,” Tenzin notes. 

“She’s not,” Blaine agrees, hoping Tenzin understands his words.

***

“You’re going to get yourself killed at this rate, Lin.”

Until recently, it had been the water that kept them apart. With Aang ailing and Katara spending all of her time by his side, the pressure fell on Tenzin to keep Air Temple Island in order. Nothing new, but never before had it been so convenient to have him anchored in place. Somewhere she could avoid his scrutiny and judgment. Somewhere she could avoid the lingering sentiment drawn tight in her chest.

Airbenders, Aang always told her, are a free-spirited people. Even with the weight of so many responsibilities falling on his shoulders, Tenzin never seems happier than when he has the opportunity to travel.

But Oogi had been grounded for a while now. Except for tonight, it seems.

“Aren’t you out past your bedtime, Tenzin?”

Logically, Lin knows that she could run down the alley and Tenzin wouldn’t follow. If he’s in the heart of the city, it means that he’s there for some type of Council meeting. He can’t spend all night chasing after her. More importantly, he probably knows that he doesn’t have to.

She reads the conflict easily on his face, and he doesn’t step out from under the arch of the Council headquarters. Not physically, at least.

“Lin, I know how much it means to you, _proving_ yourself to Chief Bei Fong and rounding up the delinquents.” His voice carries. “But we’re not _children_ anymore. You need to be open with her, admit to what you’re doing, and I’m sure she would understand if you wanted to join the police force—”

His robes are in her hands; she doesn’t remember when they got so close, red and yellow spilling over from her fingers. “You _don’t know_ my mother, Tenzin. You don’t know what it’s like to be her _daughter_.” And his eyes, dark gray in the night. “But most of all, you don’t know why I’m doing this. Stop assuming.”

She feels his hand brushing over her cheek, the touch like a brand.

“I don’t want to _lose_ anyone else, Lin. Can’t you just—”

She presses down against the request on his lips because she’s not sure she has what it takes to refuse him just now. Fortunately, he doesn’t push further.

“I promise, you won’t lose me.”

As she backs away, Lin notices that for the first time, Tenzin doesn’t seem to believe her.

***

Waking up in the middle of the night comes easily these days. Or maybe it’s actually that Kurt never sleeps deeply anymore, not with the city in the middle of such chaos and uncertainty. The moon shines into the room, and Blaine sleeps soundly beside Kurt when a knock sounds on their door. Kurt doesn’t even startle, but instead simply sits up and slips out of bed as quietly as he can, padding his way over to the front door.

The odds always feel like they’re in his favor. Accidents happen often enough that most night visitors are still those who can’t afford a trip to the hospital. But when Kurt opens the door to find the White Lotus waiting for him, his heart immediately plummets. Their robes are black today, and that can only mean one thing.

_It’s funny_ , he thinks. _Didn’t this all start with a late night visitor?_

He knows they’ve all been preparing for this moment, but it doesn’t stop Kurt from having to struggle to keep his footing, knees suddenly weak. He’ll have to wake Blaine, they’ll need to meet with Katara to help with the funeral preparations. Worse yet, the entire city is going to stagger in the wake of Avatar Aang’s passing, and no one knows how bad it might get.

“When did he pass?” Kurt asks, his tone a little shaky. 

“It’s not Avatar Aang, Kurt,” the officer relays softly, tone terse. “It’s Chief Bei Fong.” 

Toph.

Kurt inhales sharply, staring dumbly ahead as his skin goes numb. He forgets to breathe. “Councilman Sokka sent for you both,” another one of the men relays. “He wants the two of you on the island for now, it’ll be safer there.” 

Safer? How can anywhere be safer than Republic City? Where even the Triple Threats are kept at bay by an extensively trained police force.

“Kurt?”

Glancing up, Kurt realizes that he hasn’t said a word yet in response. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around it all. They had been preparing for Aang, not Toph. She is — _was_ — the picture of health for her age. 

In light of recent events, even Lin seems like a more likely cause for tonight’s visit from the Lotus. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. 

-

From a distance, Kurt thinks that this is the smallest Lin’s ever looked. Her shoulders, usually held back and square, are slouched as she sits next to the officers readying Chief Bei Fong’s cart for the burial procession. It’s the first time that Kurt’s seen her since the news of her mother’s death — shortly after the public announcement, the streets were riddled with crowds and riots, and Kurt’s had to support a higher volume of patients coming into the clinic. Between that and his regular trips to Aang’s bedside, free time is a rarity.

But looking at Lin now, Kurt can’t help but think that he should have made time for this earlier. Carved it out of his schedule. At the end of the day, Kurt’s always cared more about being with his loved ones than anything else.

“You can take all of those jars back,” he hears Lin say, her arms wrapped tightly over her chest as she glares at some of the workers loading up the cart. “She’s _dead_ ; wine and dried meat isn’t going to do her any good. Take it all back to the officers. I’m sure she’d rather have them in high spirits.”

“A-are you sure? The jars are meant to help ensure a safe passage into the Spirit World. At least the cured meats will guarantee that she won’t go hungry—”

“Food _doesn’t_ pass on to the Spirit World!” Lin interjects, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “I even have it on good authority from the Avatar himself that _bending_ doesn’t work in the Spirit World, so if that’s where my mother’s gone, then she’s already well and truly—”

Placing his hands on Lin’s shoulders, Kurt nods at the worker with a smile. “Wei, please do as the lady asks,” he instructs softly, dipping his chin in emphasis. “These are her mother’s arrangements, after all.”

Quickly bowing and bobbing his head, Wei huffs a nervous breath and hefts the jars back on his shoulders, ducking out of the way. Watching him walk off, Kurt then glances at Lin, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“I didn’t need your help,” she says as soon as the contact is broken.

“Not for that, at least, although I think I helped to spare that guy his job.”

“No one’s going to fire him for setting off a volatile personality.”

Kurt exhales deeply, shaking his head once. “You’d be surprised at how much influence you have, Lin. The moment you start questioning someone, everyone else does the same.” He glances at Toph’s cart, lips thin. “I think we can guess who you inherited that from.”

When she doesn’t reply, Kurt steps closer again. Somehow, it still feels like she’s impossible to reach.

“Lin, if there’s anything you want to talk about or get off your chest, I’m here for you,” he adds.

She meets his gaze briefly before turning in the direction of the dismissed worker. “Maybe I’m beyond your help, Hummel.”

***

Blaine doesn’t pretend to be able to relate to Tenzin’s situation. Being sent on a matter of diplomacy instead of being able to support loved ones can’t be easy on a person.

This could be why Blaine finds Tenzin at the other end of the reception hall by the bar. He doesn’t seem to recognize Blaine at first. 

“The Avatar sends his condolences,” Tenzin slurs, his hands curl around a cup in immediate danger of sloshing over. 

“You just kept serving him?” Blaine asks the attendant at the bar, who shrugs in response. Blaine can’t blame him, the guy probably didn’t want to be the one to tell Tenzin no. 

In a matter of time, it will be his responsibility to find and help train the next Avatar. Blaine can surely handle a drunk airbender. 

Right? 

He scrawls out a quick note to Kurt and hands it to the attendant. “Make yourself useful and see that Kurt Hummel gets this, alright?” Then, he directs his attention to Tenzin. He’s a little bigger than Blaine and not exactly steady on his feet. Not to mention the looming threat of him redirecting the air flow to his liking. “Alright, Tenzin. Let’s get you home.” 

Tenzin is quiet, his hands tighten around the cup. 

“You don’t want Lin seeing you like this.”

He grunts at that and lets the cup fall to the floor with a careless _thump_. Blaine holds out his arm for Tenzin to take.

It’s not an uncommon sight in their tier of society, seeing young men escorted out after feasts on account of too much drink. For Tenzin, though, it is anything but common. 

“Lin.” 

“No, Tenzin. It’s Blaine,” he corrects him. 

“But you said Lin.” 

“I said you wouldn’t want her seeing—”

“No,” he cuts in. “You said she had come by the house. She was getting herself hurt, right? I didn’t make her mad for nothing, right?” 

Blaine’s heart aches. He hadn’t meant for Tenzin to confront Lin. He doesn’t know what he wanted, really, just that he couldn’t stand keeping the information to himself any longer. Kurt had his reasons for not wanting to share Lin’s visits with him, but Tenzin deserved to know. 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve seen her at the house, though,” Blaine tells him. He knows it could mean a lot of things, the most of worrying of which is that she’s still out there and not getting her injuries treated. 

But he also knows that he needs to calm Tenzin down. “Maybe someone finally got through to her.”

***

After hours of helping to oversee the passage of her mother’s cart from Republic City to Gaoling, Lin feels worn, her muscles aching after riding an ostrich horse most of the way. She had been offered the opportunity to sit in a palanquin like the rest of the Bei Fong relatives, but ever since she received the news of her mother’s death, there’s been this restlessness in her chest which never seems to abate.

The only thing that helps is keeping busy.

By the time she returns to Republic City, most of the people in the procession have gone their separate ways, leaving Lin to walk back to her house alone. Even though she was the one to turn down offers of company, when she passes through her front door, she’s struck by the quiet. The lack of vibrations in the floor.

It’s not the first time that she’s been home alone at this hour, but there’s a finality that threatens to crush her with its weight. She stomps around the house, deliberately dislodging a few tiles as she goes, running up to her mother’s room and slipping inside. Lin can’t remember having done so since her childhood, back when thunder and lightning were things to be afraid of.

The room is barren, largely stripped down, but the scent of earth is still strong in the air. Lin lowers herself to sit on the floor, glancing briefly towards the closet. With a jerk of her hand, the metal frame slides to the side, revealing her mother’s last fitted uniform.

Leaning back against the wall, Lin stares quietly, the metal illuminated by the glow of the moon.

***

Kurt folds and refolds the note in his hands as he waits by the window in their living room for Blaine’s return. The Triple Threats have been quiet as of late, and he knows of Blaine’s whereabouts, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying.

He feels guilty for not keeping a better eye on Tenzin over the course of the evening. It must have gotten bad for Blaine to have to step in. 

Blaine is barely through the door when Kurt launches into his arms.

“You got my note, right?” Blaine asks, looking a little concerned.

“Yes, yes,” Kurt nods quickly. “The barkeep who gave it to me looked like he was going to wet his robes. I hope you didn’t yell at him.” 

“I might have,” Blaine admits. Kurt guides him over to the couch where most of his after-hours healing takes place. “It’s been a rough week.” 

“It has.” 

The loss of Toph is still fresh and Aang’s death is looming on the horizon. Kurt knows it’s an awful thing to think, but it feels a bit like the changing of the guard. One era comes to an end to another can begin. 

“He’s okay though, right?” Kurt asks. 

“I think so. He’s a little nervous about everything Lin’s been getting into lately and—” Blaine stops himself, but he’s already said too much. 

Kurt’s stomach sinks, because Blaine knows something that he hadn’t intended for him to know. 

“I told him. About Lin,” Blaine admits. “I hope you aren’t upset.” 

“I lied to you,” Kurt counters. “You’re the one who should be upset with me.” 

“We had people to protect.” 

Kurt supposes Blaine’s right. The people they need to protect aren’t always one another. 

Blaine leans his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Blaine’s funeral robes smell like wine and smoke, and he knows he should pester him to change and bathe before bed. 

But after the week they’ve had, Kurt can barely muster up the energy to move to the bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

His head is pounding. 

He's startled awake by cold toes brushing his ankle, but it's not the worst way to wake up. The familiar sight of dark, tangled hair against the pillowcase brings a smile to his face. It's a stark contrast to the clean, white linens. He reaches out to brush a lock aside, but stops himself. 

They got to bed pretty late last night, but the previous night's funeral called for distraction. He knows it's not the best way to deal with things, but they're only human. 

She stirs. 

He wishes for another moment of quiet before they have to face the new day. It feels like it's slipping between his fingers. 

"Lin," Tenzin says, his voice rough from sleep. 

She curses and immediately jumps out of bed, dragging the sheets with her.

“Lin,” he says again, trying to keep his voice steady. “Come back to bed.” He wants to tell her so many things, but he’s afraid the wrong words will send her out the door. He has to be careful, he can’t lose her now.

The scars across her face are beautiful to Tenzin. They remind him of how close he’s come to losing her.

She crosses her arms over her chest. Her modesty might seem out of place to some, given the circumstances, but Tenzin understands. She doesn’t like to feel vulnerable, and during times like these, it’s a hard thing for a person not to feel.

He doesn’t know what it is about her right now, but he can almost see the tangled haired tomboy he met when he first came to Republic City. 

“I suppose things can’t get much worse,” she says quietly, and it’s the best answer Tenzin could have hoped for. 

She stays. 

He breathes easier now. 

Tenzin knows this isn’t right, but after all, they’re only human.

***

Some of the faces greeting Lin as she enters the police station have been familiar for years. Decades, even. Women and men who watched after Lin when her regular babysitters had other obligations suddenly come up, when her mother couldn’t afford to take a single day off of work to ensure that her daughter had a comforting face nearby.

They joked with Lin once she was old enough not to need a sitter. Said that Lin was the best trainee that they’d ever had, better even than the academy with the way she kept everyone on their toes, constantly trying to slip away.

There are more lines now drawn over people’s faces. Shadows where they’d never been before. And some faces are gone entirely.

Lin tries not to think about that, nor the most obvious one that comes to mind.

Her shoulders are heavy, but not with the weight of grief. Remorse has molded into something new, into determination evident in every press of her lips. Instead, it’s her mother’s armor that she wears now, stretching across her chest, and she carefully flexes her hands to test the metal. It’s a little bit like coming home.

A couple of people are lined up by the recruitment desk, mostly clad in golds and reds, loud colors to show off their bravado — but every single person falls silent when they watch her enter.

The applicants immediately shuffle to either side, offering her a wide berth. Instead of passing through, Lin raises a hand and shakes her head.

“I’m here to apply like the rest of you,” she says, voice strong and unwavering. “I will wait my turn.”

***

It’s been a quieter week than most. A more optimistic person might hope that the military’s somehow managed to get crime under control, but Kurt knows better by this point — with a city constantly in a state of flux, sometimes it benefits everyone to sit and wait, no matter what their motive. Having Lin on the police force is a game changer.

Even the Triple Threats know that.

But no matter what the source of the peace is, Kurt takes advantage of it as much as possible, clocking in more hours with Katara and Aang these past few days than he has in months.

He only hopes that he’s not interrupting private time.

“So,” Aang greets when Kurt comes in that afternoon, a wide smile on his face and weathered hands peacefully resting on his lap. “Katara tells me that Lin has decided to take the same career path as her mother did.”

Grinning and feeling a warmth blossoming over in his chest, Kurt nods. “That she has. I hear that she’s working _very_ quickly through classes at the Academy, trying to pass as many of the physical tests as possible. Recruitment might end up slower at this rate; I’m sure she’s intimidating all of her classmates.”

From the corner of the room, Katara smiles peacefully, her rocker tilting forward and back as she works on knitting a sweater for the upcoming winter.

“In that way, she takes after her mother,” chuckles Aang, leaning back at Kurt’s request and pushing aside his robes to make way for Kurt’s healing. “Toph was a very intimidating girl when I met her. Very capable of pushing me around. I believe she liked to call me Twinkle Toes to keep me humble and in my place.”

“Not a bad idea, all things considered,” adds Katara with a raise of her brow. “You used to be very fond of letting other people know that you were the Avatar.”

“But I _am_ the Avatar.”

With a laugh, Kurt starts to wrap the water around his hands, the glow gentler than most of his healings. Even though Aang seems to have a great deal of energy still, Kurt knows that his body is still deteriorating. All that he can do is ease the pain of the process, relaxing slightly when he hears Aang’s relieved sigh at the touch of the water.

“Did you know, Kurt, that I’m probably the person responsible for the choosing of Lin’s name?”

Eyes widening, Kurt shakes his head, eager to hear more. Aang’s stories are always well-woven, and this isn’t one that he’s shared before. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Mmm.” Humming briefly, Aang sinks back more heavily against the pillows, face lined with countless wrinkles as his expression settles into a smile. “The first time I ever saw Toph Bei Fong was not the first time we met. Sometimes the Spirit World touches us in ways that we don’t expect. The war was pressing, and I wasn’t mastering the elements quickly enough, and I needed to find an earthbending master. Opportunities came up, but I never seemed ready. Or perhaps the benders weren’t patient enough to deal with an impetuous young boy such as myself.”

“I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Kurt remarks, tongue in cheek. From her chair, Katara raises a brow, then continues to work on her knitting.

“My wife’s failure to come to my defense speaks for itself. I was a mischievous thing, Kurt, but I had a natural curiosity that was piqued by dreams and visions. Katara, Sokka, and myself, we were all trapped in a forest which forced us to face truths we hadn’t fully accepted yet.”

Feeling Aang’s hand reach out for Kurt’s own, Kurt freezes, then carefully glances up to meet Aang’s gaze.

“I saw a vision of Toph in that forest. Laughing, nonetheless, like she was taunting me. And I hadn’t even done anything to deserve teasing by that point! When I told Toph this story later, she laughed and laughed at me — sounded exactly like it did in that vision.” Aang shakes his head. “Then she went and named her only child Lin. The old word for ‘forest.’”

Kurt licks his lips, trying to smile, but his chest feels tight and his hands are starting to shake.

“Kurt, some friendships are so strong, they can even transcend lifetimes,” said Aang, his expression still peaceful, without a hint of conflict. “Toph may be gone, but when I hear about Lin, when I see her, I can see her mother there as well.”

Biting down on his lower lip, Kurt nods quickly, his eyes burning. “I think,” he says, voice wavering. “I think Lin would be very happy to hear that.”

“I have no doubt that I will find you in my next life, Kurt. And I hope that we will be just as good friends then as we have been in this one.”

Taking a deep breath, Kurt reaches for both of Aang’s hands, clasping them tightly.

“I know we will be.”

-

“I’m glad you could all join us this morning. Let the record show that we will be picking up where we left off at the town hall,” Wes begins. He turns to Rachel, and she begins taking notes. 

Having barely left Aang’s quarters in time to attend the meeting, Kurt’s heart pounds in his chest as he seats himself right next to Lin, meeting gazes only briefly before trying to get a better sense of the atmosphere in the room. Kurt hopes the limited audience will allow for a better discussion than the one Blaine reported back to him last time. It’s an important issue that they’re debating, and the conversation can’t afford to keep getting out of hand. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, the Order of the White Lotus, and the United Republic police force, it has come to our attention that we need to set stronger regulations regarding bending.” 

There are murmurs scattered throughout the crowd, but no one outright speaks up.

“I’m sure that many of you are aware of the outlawing of bloodbending several decades ago. After that regulation was codified into law, the United Republic saw a crime drop of about forty percent.” 

It’s a nice statistic, Kurt agrees, but he suspects that more of it can be attributed to the growing pains the United Republic had shortly after its founding. He knows the history from Katara herself — bloodbending was far from the only law written in those early years. Glancing to the side, Kurt notices the strong set of Lin’s jaw; it’s possible that she’s thinking along the same lines.

“I am not asking to completely outlaw all types of bending; I merely hope that we can start to restrict bending that isn’t essential to the work force or the morale of the people as fostered by recreation and professional sports,” Wes continues, glancing up to gauge the reactions of the crowd. “I will now open the floor to questions and suggestions. I urge all of you to remember that this is our nation, and we all want to protect it the best we can.” 

Lin’s hand is the first to shoot up. “How would this affect the metalbenders of the police force?”

“As I alluded to earlier, I would like to keep bending unregulated in the workplace, which of course applies to—”

Sebastian doesn’t wait for Wes to finish speaking. “I understand that this had a positive effect on a small scale, but how is it going to work with all forms of bending? Are we going to send the police force after every child trying their hand at earthbending for the first time? It would be a complete waste of police resources, thus distracting them from the crimes that caused these proposed regulations in the first place!” 

While Kurt hasn’t heard the greatest things about Sebastian, he refuses to ignore reason just because of that. Sebastian’s tone is a little aggressive, but being on the Council probably requires a level of assertion Kurt doesn’t typically see in his field. At the heart of the matter, Kurt knows Sebastian’s right. Regulating everything is inefficient. It even fosters resentment.

“I, well...” Wes falters. “Arguably, that could be seen as a lesser offense under the eyes of the law. Bending without the supervision of a proper instructor can be dangerous.”

Kurt can’t help but snort at that, which earns him a hard nudge from Lin. He raises a brow at her. “You do remember how we met, right?” he whispers.

“Not the time,” she returns tersely, expression fixed in a frown.

Pressing his lips shut, Kurt nods once before turning his attention back to Sebastian.

“With all due respect,” says Sebastian, his tone even and wry. “Do you know what’s also dangerous? Occupying our limited police resources with minor crimes when they haven’t even begun to crack the surface of the organized gangs in Republic City. You distract those police officers, and more people get hurt for reasons that aren’t just innocent childhood accidents. More people get threatened and hurt in ways they can’t explain at the hospital.”

Kurt inhales sharply, biting down on his lower lip. It isn’t just him, after all. Councilman Smythe seems to spot the same holes in the logic of registration as Kurt has.

“Preventative measures are important, but this goes beyond that. We’re assuming that an entire group of people is more likely to be guilty of crime.”

The murmurs are increasing in volume, a constant sea of noise. But even now, Wes seems to be skilled at maintaining his calm, simply waiting for a pause in Sebastian’s words before speaking again.

“I understand your point, Councilman,” says Wes. “So what if I posit that these restrictions can and should be lifted for people who obtain a license? We’re content with restricting who has access to heavy machinery. How is this any different?”

Kurt’s frown deepens. All that momentum is suddenly threatening to wash away once more.

“All that I’m asking people for is their name.”

-

“Councilman Smythe?” 

“Any grievances can be filed with my office,” he says dismissively. 

Kurt has to stop himself from grabbing onto the other man’s robes just to keep his attention for a moment longer, itching under his skin with worries about the reactions to the day’s meeting. “No, I’m afraid that won’t do.” 

Sebastian turns, finally, and his lips curl into a smile at the sight of Kurt. “Kurt Hummel. You’re Avatar Aang’s healer, aren’t you? I wasn’t aware that medical personnel had reason to attend Council meetings.” 

“I have friends on the Council, Councilman Smythe.”

“Oh, I know all about your friends on the Council. You know, it wasn’t that long ago that someone plucked Blaine Anderson right out of a promising political career. They still talk about how far he could have gone. Still can’t quite figure out what coaxed him away.” 

Kurt is aware that Sebastian is trying to hit a nerve, and he has no problem holding his ground. There have been enough late night talks for Kurt to know that Blaine couldn’t be happier with his decision to leave politics.

“Blaine’s would-be career on the Council isn’t the reason I wanted to speak with you,” Kurt says, lifting his chin up slightly. “As advisors for the Water Tribes for the White Lotus, I feel a lot can be gained from the two of us working together.” 

“I mean no disrespect, Hummel, but if the next Avatar is born into the Northern Water Tribe, there isn’t much I would need your particular _advisement_ on.” 

Taken aback for a second, Kurt arches a brow. He can’t figure out if Sebastian’s being serious, if he’s one of those people who stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the patterns of the Avatar cycle. As far back as records show, the Avatar has alternated between the North and South Poles — and with Avatar Kuruk having come from the North Pole, the next Avatar should be born to the South Pole.

Of course, Sebastian could simply be trying to brush Kurt off with an shoddy excuse. Either way, Kurt knows there is nothing to be gained from arguing with people like Sebastian. 

Besides, Kurt knows he’ll be leaving Republic City soon enough. No point in causing any more friction than necessary.

“My mistake,” he says, forcing a polite smile. 

Kurt has had to deal with all sorts of unsavory characters over the years, and Sebastian is hardly a blip on his radar. And despite some of Sebastian’s views on the differences between the Poles, Kurt knows that they at least feel similarly about the proposed treatment of benders in the city. 

Aligning himself with a politician for the good of his fellow healers and benders is a sacrifice Kurt is willing to make. He knows his union will need the sort of protection that only people like Sebastian can provide. 

“I just wanted to let you know that you have the support of myself and the healers of Republic City. We are adamant about blocking the motion towards bender cataloguing before it can even come to a vote.” 

If Sebastian is at all surprised by Kurt’s words, he recovers quickly, cogs probably turning to figure out how he can leverage the new information. “I’m glad to hear that. The testimonials of those who heal our city will be crucial if this goes on much longer,” Sebastian says, suddenly serious.

“Of course.” 

“A few words from the person in charge of healing the Avatar might not hurt either.” 

-

Kurt looks for Blaine as the crowd begins to thin out. Every flash of red robes catches his eye, but it’s never Blaine.

He notices that Wes and his secretary, Lady Rachel, have also disappeared. Kurt is no stranger to late night strategy meetings, so he knows not to expect Blaine home any time soon. Usually, it doesn’t bother him.

But usually, the Council isn’t discussing matters that could drastically change both of their lives.

***

Blaine is thankful that Rachel and Wes have been able to sort out their differences over the past few weeks. United, they are a force to be reckoned with. They are a voice for nonbenders everywhere.

“Of course, we need to find a way to phrase this that doesn’t make it sound like we’re out to prosecute the benders,” Wes says, pacing back and forth in the lobby of his office. It’s after hours, but Rachel and Blaine have stayed behind to advise him. 

“It’s not like they’re all criminals,” Blaine points out. He feels he can add an unbiased side to the discussion.

“Some of them are,” Rachel scoffs.

Blaine doesn’t blame her for her anger. She’s young, she faced the Triple Threats personally. It’s going to be hard for her fury not to shine through in these matters. To the best of his ability, he tries to sidestep talk of the guilty, turning the conversation towards prevention instead of retribution.

“We could link it to educational opportunities for benders,” he suggests, thinking about the difficulties Kurt had after arriving in the city. “Registering could allow young benders to get government aid when it comes to further training. Plus, it would help the government find jobs for people more efficiently if we can help them best utilize their skills, benders or not.”

Still, Rachel doesn’t look satisfied, arching a brow. 

“Listen,” Blaine continues. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but Avatar Aang isn’t going to be around much longer...” 

“Of course he’s not,” Rachel cuts in. “He’s the Avatar, he’s not immortal.” 

While Rachel might be able to remember that the Avatar is as human as anyone else, Blaine knows that there are a lot of people that don’t see things that way. To many, the Avatar is a symbol and figurehead. Losing that will come as a shock, no matter when Avatar Aang passes. 

“Okay, fair, but my point is that we don’t need the next Avatar coming into a world where bending is feared. We need to create balance. It might be a while before the Avatar is present to do so themselves.” He thinks of Kurt, the way his eyes light up with passion when he talks about waterbending. “Bending is important to our culture. Just because it’s been used for misdeeds in the past doesn’t mean we need to extinguish the flame forever.”

Wes, who has remained fairly quiet thus far, reaches out to rest his hand gently on Blaine’s shoulder. “Sometimes, I really wish you were the one in my shoes,” he admits. Not for the first time, Blaine notices how much Wes has aged since taking his seat on the Council.

If nothing else, he’s glad to have the opportunity to help a dear friend.

-

The apartment is hushed when Blaine returns, a rarity these days. Usually Kurt is still seeing his patients.

Kurt himself is quiet, but it’s not the comfortable sort of quiet that Blaine has grown accustomed to over the years. He knows Kurt needs the quiet when he’s trying to focus or work through an issue.

This is a different quiet. An angry quiet. One occasionally accompanied by the clatter of pots and pans. 

“Kurt?” Blaine calls out. No reply.

He finds Kurt in the kitchen scrubbing a basin that looks like it’s already been cleaned. He gets this way sometimes, but even after all of this time, Blaine still doesn’t know how to deal with it. 

“Will they be rounding us up and putting us in camps by the week’s end?” Kurt asks, his eyes never leaving the pan. His hands are raw from the scrubbing. “Maybe they’ll let you stay. You’re helping them, after all.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open. These things Kurt is saying, these aren’t fears Blaine’s had himself, but it’s clear they’ve been worrying Kurt. 

“And the next Avatar. I suppose they’ll put them in a zoo. Somewhere for the public to admire.”

“I defended you. I defended _us_.” Right now, Blaine doesn’t simply mean the two of them, he means all benders. They live in times where no one seems to have the right answer, but they’re all trying. “Nothing like that is going to happen to us, Kurt.” 

The pan clatters to the bottom of the sink. Blaine wraps his hands around Kurt’s wrists and pulls them away. He wishes in that moment that he was the one with Kurt’s healing touch, because he wants nothing more than to fix this. 

“Nothing is going to touch us, I promise.”

***

Kurt hates to ask anything of Aang, especially now, but he’s scared. They all are. They don’t know what kind of world is going to greet the next Avatar, and it’s now their job to prepare for it.

“The bending legislation they’re voting on next week. How should Blaine advise them?”

As a representative of the White Lotus, Blaine’s opinion will be sought after by people other than Wes now. And if Blaine doesn’t fall on the right side of decisions, if Kurt can’t support him in the process, he’s not sure how they’re supposed to earn the trust of the entire Order. Kurt tries to keep the anxiety out of his voice, but he can’t help the tight press of his lips.

In contrast, Aang smiles. “How do you expect an old man like me to know?” he chuckles.

Kurt feels Blaine squeeze his hand. It calms him, but only a little. Aang is right. How can any one person know the right answer when a full council of elected officials can’t seem to come to an agreement? 

“All we can do is learn from our past.” 

This frustrates Kurt, because he already knew that. There’s a reason so many past cases have been brought into the discussion. 

“And you’re smart boys, you know that’s easier said than done.”

***

The stillness of the evening doesn’t fool Aang, long since having learned about the eye of the storm. All around him, he senses the wind in its movement, weaving through Republic City, the buildings he’d helped to oversee since they were nothing more than carefully laid plans. Not once during his childhood did he foresee a future like this one, with the Air Temples still aged and empty, not enough nomads to move in and oversee their restoration. He expected to live through the end of his days with his brothers, to follow in Gyatso’s steps, for war to be a distant memory instead of the lingering ache that it’d become since.

But if there’s one thing in his present day that he wanted from the start, it’s the feeling of happiness around him, familiar and warm.

Focusing his gaze, he catches Katara glancing his way, and his smile only widens.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he remarks, watching as she makes her way to the window of the bedroom, pushing aside the curtains to reveal the full moon hanging heavy in the sky. “The moon pales in comparison to you.”

This seems to break the tension in Katara’s jaw just a little, mouth relaxing. “Don’t let Sokka hear you say that,” she jokes, stepping forward when he ushers for her to join him on the bed. “Not everyone is lucky enough to spend their entire lives with their first love.”

Pursing his lips, Aang tilts his head, reaching for Katara’s hands and twining their fingers. “I seem to recall another young man you were once enamored with. Jet, was it?”

Katara bats at his shoulder lightly with a hand.

“Or was it Zuko?”

“ _Aang_.”

Chuckling, Aang rubs her hands in his own, leaning over to press a careful kiss to her cheek. “Looks like I’ll be giving you a hard time until my last breath, Katara,” he murmured, inhaling deeply. “Did you have any idea what you were getting yourself into?”

Though his vision was slightly blurred around the edges, Aang caught a brightness in Katara’s eyes, reaching out to wipe tears away before they spilled over.

“Adventure,” she breathed, not moving to push him away. “Having the chance to see the world with the man I loved. And never lacking in hope.”

He leaned over again, tugging at her chin just so, and through the kiss Aang realized that he must have missed a tear. That hurt more than anything, the constant reminder that there were many griefs that the Avatar could do nothing to solve. The world wasn’t his to fix — it was his to experience. Just like anyone else.

“I feel like I’ve prepared for everything except actually saying goodbye,” Katara murmured.

“Then let’s not say our farewells. I’ve seen the Spirit World before; I think you’ll like it there. I’ll be waiting for you, and for our next adventure.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. You’re my forever girl.”

***

The White Lotus are dressed in funeral robes today.

“Dad would have hated that,” Tenzin says.

It’s the first time that Kurt’s heard Tenzin refer to his father as something other than Avatar Aang. It’s this that makes Kurt take Tenzin’s hand.

The funeral draws in people from all of the nations to Republic City. The streets are packed with mourners.

Kurt knows that not all of them are weeping for Aang. The time between an Avatar’s death and the discovery of the next Avatar has always been a tense one in their history. Especially since it took so long to find Avatar Aang.

The White Lotus has tried to reassure the public of the precautions being taken this time around, but people still worry. Kurt doesn’t blame them.

The procession stops at the docks. Only those closest to the Avatar’s family are allowed to make the trip to Airbender Island. Even Lin hadn’t been allowed to accompany Tenzin. 

It almost makes Kurt feel guilty for having Blaine at his side. 

The ride to Airbender Island is quiet. It makes Kurt ache for simpler times. When he looks at Tenzin, he can see lines in his face he could swear weren’t there the previous week. 

The responsibilities they’ve known they would have to take on someday aren’t just some vague idea in the distant future anymore. They’ve arrived. 

Kurt’s read about the burial traditions of the Air Nomads, and he’s thankful that Aang decided to go against the norm. Watching Aang’s ashes being swept away with the wind is easier to stomach than a traditional sky burial.

He looks from the sky to the waters below, and briefly wonders about things in the South Pole. 

As he watches the ashes drift off, Kurt starts to think about the passage of time. Katara and Aang met so young, much younger than he and Blaine were when they first met. Despite all of the time they had together, it couldn’t have felt like enough. 

He and Blaine haven’t seen eye to eye on a lot of things lately. Blaine has never broken his trust during this time, of course, but there is a tenseness in the household that’s been building. 

Fighting each other feels like wasted effort now. They both want the same things, they just have different methods for getting there. Now, more than ever, it is important that they are a united front. For their city, for the Avatar, for each other. 

It’s not only that. His love for his people and his city are important, but he doesn’t want to waste any more time being angry with Blaine. 

He will have to say goodbye to Blaine someday too, and he wants to make the most out of every second they are allowed.

***

**EPILOGUE**

Blaine feels like they’ve spent the past three years with one foot out the door. Kurt still sees his patients and Blaine sits in on meetings with the White Lotus, but every knock on the door could be the one that starts their next adventure. 

He can’t help the thrill he feels going up his spine with each knock, and no matter how many turn out to be patients or visitors, the hope never goes away. 

“Could you get the door?” Kurt calls from the other room.

Blaine gets up from his desk, trying to ignore the familiar excitement that’s building. It could be years still before they hear any news. 

When he opens the door to find Sokka standing there with two masters by his side, the anticipation becomes much harder to ignore. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me for skipping the pleasantries, Blaine. They found a little girl in the South Pole. She bends fire, earth, and water better than any of our agents down there.” 

“Kurt?” Blaine calls out, his eyes not leaving Sokka’s. 

“I asked you to get the door!” Kurt shouts back, his voice getting louder as he presumably crosses the apartment. 

“Kurt,” Sokka greets cheerfully once Kurt’s in sight. “I hope the two of you don’t have any upcoming plans.”

His expression is as dumbstruck as Blaine _feels_. This isn’t just a possibility anymore. It’s happening. 

“As I was just telling Blaine,” Sokka continues, “It seems we found an old friend in the South Pole and we could use your assistance.”

**END BOOK TWO.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of our journey for now. We hope you enjoyed this book! The next time we meet you, Kurt and Blaine will be spending some time in the South Pole with a familiar face. :)


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